


Avail

by cherryjam (blueskull)



Series: FFXIV Write 2020 [6]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, FFxivWrite2020, Fluff, Hyur Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), obviously canon divergence, takes place after 5.3, written for ffxivwrite2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:55:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26403037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueskull/pseuds/cherryjam
Summary: He has absolutely no idea where she’s picked up the accursed automata, but he would sorely like to find out.“Isn’t he charming?”
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Series: FFXIV Write 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913422
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

He has absolutely _no idea_ where she’s picked up the accursed automata, but he would sorely like to find out.

“Isn’t he charming?”

Hades is quite aware she is _fond_ of that word; even before everything, she had been taken to calling things she liked _charming_. And for the most part, he could, to a certain extent, _understand_ why she would choose such a description.

Aster and Ambrose, for instance: balls of veritable fluff with enormous, round eyes, they coo and huddle together as much as they dote upon the hyuran woman. Even _he_ can tell the creations are quite _cute._ Even _charming_.

But this?

This carelessly constructed simulacrum of himself, tiny in stature, exaggerated in features, is most certainly not _cute_ in any way he can think of. And yet Arianna can look upon its juvenile face and call it _charming_.

It can do naught but scurry after her, not even capable of the most basics of communication. Yet she smiles and coos over it once it does no less than collide with one of her legs, picking it up and hugging it to her chest, patting at its artificial hair, even having the gall to kiss it on its forehead.

And he can _swear_ that that automata looks far too pleased with itself to find him glowering at it.

His patience draws thin. Hades can tolerate it no longer. So he finally devises a way to get rid of the thing for once and for all.

“ _Arianna_ ,” he purrs one afternoon as she discreetly grinds away at some herbs in her mortar, preparing some poultice or another, or perhaps a bag of tea. Sauntering toward her, he hooks fingers beneath her chin to pull her up to look at him so he might kiss her. Soundly ignoring the sensation of something colliding with one of his booted feet, he snaps the automata out of existence.

Though, without the finger snap, that would simply shock the woman, not to mention alert her of his ultimate plan.

To his pleasure, this simple trick seems to be effective in drawing her attention; she does not question the disappearance of the sorry simulacrum that had been mere moments before sitting upon one of her feet. Not even when he tests the waters of her awareness and asks her for a cup of tea.

Though he reflects, sitting at the table with his cup, that, perhaps he shouldn’t have.

“Hmm? Where is the little windup?”

“Not a clue,” he says, smooth as silk, as he takes a sip of his drink. “Wonderful tea, by the way. As always.”

“I hope he didn’t get stuck in anything...”

_How annoying._ “I’m sure it’s just gone for a walk. It’ll be back before you know it.”

“Truly? I hope he enjoys his walk, then...”

And the creature is not seen again for the rest of the day, nor does Arianna bring it up. For once.

________ 

Hades shifts into a more comfortable position as he lounges in Arianna’s gardens, the scent of herbs and other flowers wafting about him. Managing to be vaguely comforting, along with the heat of the sun beaming down upon him -- a perfect place for sleep.

Though as he moves, he catches sight of Arianna, returning home.

And for once in his life, he hopes that, perhaps, maybe, he is, in fact, going senile, as the more mulish of the Leveilleur twins likes to put it.

But, alas. Such flights of fancy are not meant to be.

_Somehow_ the _thing_ has found its way back, happily clutched within Arianna’s arms, a basket hooked over her elbow.

He’s on his feet before she’s even breached the gate and shut it behind her. She nearly bumps into him with a startled squeak, not expecting his abrupt approach.

“H-Hades...?!” she stammers in surprise, nearly dropping at least one of her cargo.

“Where did you find that?” he manages to not-quite-demand, nodding to the automata blinking up at him smugly.

“Oh, Emmy?”

_Emmy...?_ Of course she’s given it a name.

“I-I suppose he must have gotten lost on the way home...” Her quiet voice trails off as her brows furrow in consternation. “I found him waiting outside when I left earlier. He looked so sad...”

_Of course_ it did. Why would it not? “I see...what a shame.”

“Y-yes, he must have been so frightened on his own...”

That hadn’t been what he had been referring to, but no matter.

No matter _what_ he does, he cannot seem to get rid of that little travesty. Even when he warps it off to another shard, to no avail: it somehow manages to find its way back, even if it takes a blessed day or two. Which begs the question: by her twelve, who had made such a thing? He can’t think of anyone who would _wish_ to go through the effort to make the automata, nor who could even bestow it such abilities to be so damnably _troublesome_.

At least he can shut Aster and Ambrose out of the bedroom. This thing simply comes and goes as it pleases, utterly intent to mock and vex him.

Of course, Arianna does not especially care so long as she can _dote_ upon it.

“Do you truly like that thing so much?”

“Of course. I love it.”

_Hmph_. “Surely it can’t be as scintillating as the real thing.” Perhaps some vague attempt at nursing his pride, or perhaps a jab to see what she’ll say in response. Even he isn’t entirely sure.

“Y-you are both...equally charming, B-but of course...” The way she trails off and stutters tells him what she has to say is most likely _interesting_ , so he deigns to give her his full attention as he blinks calmly down at her. “O-of course I love you more.”

\-- Ah, perhaps that accursed thing doesn’t win at everything around her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This shouldn't exist but I thought about it too much so here we are.

He supposes, albeit grudgingly, that he can understand why Arianna calls the imitation of himself _charming_.

This one is quite adorable. Unfortunately.

He’d spotted the little automata while outside. At first he’d thought the rustling of the plants to be the machinations of that awful little terror, back from wherever he’d sent it last. But parting the greenery simply had him looking down into _more_ green, and a tiny face framed with curled black locks.

The thing had looked up at Hades bemusedly as he picked it up to inspect it in curiosity. Its clothes were a near spitting image of Arianna’s trademark robes -- she really should expand her horizons, something more extravagant perhaps -- and its face was certainly _charming_. Disconcertingly, he feels a warm, cloying sensation in his chest as it uses tiny hands to grasp at one of his cuffs.

How irritatingly cute.

She even has a tiny book to pull out of her robes, complete with writing utensil, though it has naught but one page and merely drags the pen across it in a fruitless motion. She holds the empty book up toward his face, displaying its blank pages to him. Despite himself, he feels an eyebrow curving in interest.

“Oh? And what would you like to tell me?”

Ah. He’s talking to it. He’s already lost, curse it all.

The sound of the fence squeaking open upon Arianna’s return sounds like a nail in a coffin. With something approaching disturbingly close to panic, he shoves (too gently) the automata into one of his pockets as he turns to greet her.

But he should have known “Emmy” would have never appeared for _him_. The windup trails after Arianna proudly as if the cursed thing owns the place.

For the next several days, he takes extra pains to ensure neither Arianna nor her unfortunate occasional companion ever find the hyuran woman’s simulacrum. For its credit, it seems perfectly content curling up in his pocket. And she’s far more adorable than _it_ , and much more docile to boot. She’s only too happy to perch on his hand or wander about the potted plants when no one else is home, and watching her is strangely entertaining.

Though he knows Arianna would have never consented to the creation of her. She’d find the idea far too awkward and flustering. And Hades knows for a fact that a mammet of the so-called Warrior of Light would be far more popular than to sell one singular copy; surely she would have made mention of such a phenomenon by now. At the very least she would have mildly griped about how she couldn’t understand why anyone would want one.

And he most certainly cannot remember any such conversation.

Well, so long as she knows nothing of it, he supposes it matters not. Mayhaps a more important question would be what he ought to call her. “Arianna” is certainly out of the question...

Though she had called the mockery of him “Emmy”. After “Emet-Selch”, he presumes.

Perhaps Uri...?

Why is he even considering this...?

“I _knew_ you were hiding something from me.”

Hades had never expected the petite, quiet woman to ever send his blood turning to ice, but _here he is_. Perhaps one of his deepest regrets for the moment is forgetting how silent the woman can be. He’d even once compared her to a ghost, had he not? He hadn’t even noticed she’d wandered up the stairs and crept up behind him.

Clearing his throat, he rolls over from his position lounged upon the wooden floor to blink up at her innocently. The tilt of her head and the furrow of her brows tell him she isn’t buying any of it, but the mild flush to her face completely counteracts any way the expression could possibly be threatening.

“What ever do you mean?” He tries anyway.

“Th-th-that...! Wh-why did you make it?” she asks, pointing one vaguely trembling finger at the tiny windup of herself, busy fluffing at the petals of a purple flower.

“Make it? I did no such thing. I’m completely guiltless, I swear upon whatever virtue I have left in this world.”

Arianna’s green gaze snaps from him to the automata, then back again. “I-I never asked anyone to make it...”

“I thought not.” The Ascian gives a mild shrug. “But there only seems to be one of her. I’m sure you’d know if there were others, at least.”

She still seems wary, but her eyebrows straighten at least slightly, somewhat placated. “I suppose...”

Before either of them can speak again, “Emmy” trundles past them both, making an immediate beeline toward the other automata. Hades rolls again to watch the two of them scamper about the room, cheek pressed into his hand. The imitation of himself bows exaggeratedly to the tiny copy of Arianna; she claps her hands and grasps at one of the other’s. He wants to snort at the sight.

“I-I suppose they like each other,” Arianna murmurs after a moment.

“Of course. Uri is quite charming.”

The woman raises a brow questioningly, but makes no comment for the moment.

“B-but now he’s being mean.” Emmy has taken it upon himself to snatch the book out of Uri’s hands. Despite the two windups being nearly the same height, reaching the book still poses difficulty for Uri, with both the automatas’ stubby arms and exaggerated bodies.

Hades exhales a short laugh. “And yet she’s not leaving.” He can nearly feel the woman roll her eyes as she sinks to the ground behind him to sit and observe.

Before long, Uri manages to reclaim her book, though not before the automatas’ heads clack together painfully and the two stumble backwards to the ground. Though they both rub their respective foreheads and Uri stows away her completely useless book, the two nevertheless remain attached.

And then, the simulacrum of himself does something it has never done before:

He snaps his tiny fingers, and both the windups disappear.

Silence descends upon the room as even the Ascian appears shocked.

“Ah...” Arianna is the first to break the silence. “They’ve left.”

“It would appear so...”

He has no idea why, but he feels uncomfortably empty, glancing at the spot Uri had been standing in mere moments before. Frowning, he flops onto his back and closes his eyes in a bid to ignore the sensation.

Arianna grasps gently at one of his hands. “I-I suppose they must be happy together.”

“...That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” They’re free to do...whatever it is windups do on their own. He can’t imagine it being much, but who knows? At least the other one isn’t here to bother him anymore.


End file.
